


Hard Days

by Taste_is_Sweet



Series: Soldiers of Fire and Shadows [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Also because Hydra, Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Child Abuse, Crossover, Gen, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra are dicks, Illya Kuryakin Needs a Hug, Illya no, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reports of Bucky Barnes' Death are Greatly Exaggerated, Sick Bucky Barnes, So is Oleg, They Get Hugs, because hydra, so there's that, the russian crossover no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 15:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet
Summary: Illya grows up with his older brotherBuckyVanya.(On the good days, the days when it's not too cold and Bucky can still smile and he remembers both their names, Illya will sit with his back to Bucky's chest and Bucky's arms and legs wrapped around him. They keep warm like that, while Bucky tells Illya stories or teaches him rude words or his favorite songs in English. On the bad days, Illya lies next to Bucky and holds him tight while he shakes.There are a lot more bad days.)





	Hard Days

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes (again!) from the song [We Got Love](https://youtu.be/IguqYwGm69E) by Walk off the Earth. (The full line is: _Hard days, but we got one another,_ which is perfect.)
> 
> I swear Bucky is not dead. Illya just doesn't know that yet.

Viktor or Boris bring Illya to see Bucky every day. Sometimes it's just for a few minutes. Sometimes it's for an hour or more. They never tell him why and he knows better than to ask. Asking questions when you're not supposed to is bad, and Illya doesn't want Bucky to get hurt.

Bucky is always hurt, though, every time Illya sees him. Even on the good days, Bucky's smile is strained and tight around his eyes. They let him be clean now, at least, but he's so thin sometimes Illya imagines he could lift Bucky up like a bird and push him right through the narrow, barred window under the ceiling of his new room. The window lets in air and daylight, but there's no glass. When winter comes, snowflakes float down into the cell like fireflies and frost spreads in patterns over the concrete walls.

The only thing in the room besides Bucky is a cot with leather straps attached to it. It's bolted to the floor. There's no blanket, and all Bucky has to wear is the same kind of pants the boys sleep in. Sometimes Illya has nightmares that he'll find Bucky dead, ice covering his mouth and eyes.

On the good days, the days when it's not too cold and Bucky can still smile and he remembers both their names, Illya will sit with his back to Bucky's chest and Bucky's arms and legs wrapped around him. They keep warm like that, while Bucky tells Illya stories or teaches him rude words or his favorite songs in English. On the bad days, Illya lies next to Bucky and holds him tight while he shakes.

There are a lot more bad days. Illya comes to expect to find his older brother curled on his cot and panting in agony. Or, on the really bad days, trembling and crying helplessly on the floor.

On the _really_ bad days, like when Zola's done something to Bucky's new arm and he's in so much pain he can't speak or be touched anywhere, Illya lies as near to him as he can, hoping Bucky can at least feel some of his body heat, maybe take comfort in his presence. 

The worst days are the ones where they put Bucky in the Chair.

* * *

All the boys are sure Ruslan will be the next one sent away, because even after a year with them he still cries too much and doesn't like to fight. But when Viktor comes early one morning, grim-faced and sad, it's a sleepy and bewildered Alosha he pulls out of his cot then tells to say goodbye to everyone. Alosha cries and clings to Vadik so hard Viktor needs to call Boris to help pull the boy away.

Alosha screams for Vadik all the way down the corridor. Illya imagines him screaming in the truck, then screaming when he's presented to his new family. For a moment Illya hopes meanly they won't want Alosha because of it, and he'll have to come back.

Bucky would be disappointed in him if Illya told him that, though. Bucky always says Illya should be kind, no matter what. So Illya decides he wants Alosha to be happy instead.

But Alosha was happy with Vadik. He was probably the happiest of all the boys, especially compared to Ruslan. Illya doesn't understand why he was sent away.

That day, Illya's taken to see Bucky in the morning, not the afternoon. That's strange enough, but when he gets closer to where Bucky lives, he can hear him screaming and pounding on the small, barred window in his door.

"I kept my side!" Bucky screams. "We had a deal, you bastards! _I kept my side!_ What did you do? What did you do to him? You fuckers! _We had a deal!_ " His Russian is almost perfect now. Illya understands him easily, but he has no idea what Bucky's yelling about. Or why he's so upset.

Boris looks grateful when Illya and Viktor arrive. "He's been yelling his fucking head off for the last hour. Ever since…." He glances at Illya and stops, then grimaces. "Since he heard it." He gets slowly to his feet, grumbling about finding the keys.

There are tears on Bucky's face, and his eyes are red, even though he looks angry, not sad. Illya doesn't understand that. Normally Bucky only cries after the Chair, or when they do something to his arm. He gasps when he sees Illya, then starts screaming: " _ILLYA! ILLYA!_ " Like they haven't seen each other in months instead of just the day before.

"Shut up or I won't let him in, Vanya," Boris says wearily.

That's not fair, but Bucky immediately retreats up to the far corner of his room and kneels with his hands behind his back and his head down. None of the boys have to do this, so Illya doesn't know why Bucky has to. It's another thing he won't ask, but he hates it. 

"Good boy," Boris says as he swings the heavy door open. Illya doesn't know which one of them he's talking to. Illya goes in and stands in the middle of the room. He's confused and a little frightened; everything today has been so different from what normally happens.

Bucky stays completely still until Boris closes the door and locks it again, but the instant the lock clicks he leaps up and then throws himself back to his knees in front of Illya. He pulls him into his arms, holding him tight, then presses his face against Illya's small shoulder. "Thank God you're okay. Thank God. I was so scared it was you." He stops talking, and his whole body starts to shake like he's in pain again. He doesn't make any noise at all, but the thin cloth of Illya's shirt gets wet.

Illya hugs Bucky back, bewildered and afraid. "What's wrong?" They speak English together because Boris and Viktor can't. Bucky teaches Illya songs and bad words and tells him stories and the names for everything he can think of. Uncle Oleg and Grandfather know about it, because they know about everything, but it must be allowed because they don't get punished for it. Illya loves speaking English with Bucky. It feels like something special and secret, even though it's not.

"I thought it was you. I thought you were gone," Bucky says, which still doesn't make sense. "Thank God you're all right." He pulls back enough to wipe his eyes, but he keeps his left hand in a careful grip on Illya's arm. The metal clicks and whirrs and Bucky's fingers twitch like he can't control them. "I heard a kid screaming, and then a gunshot. I thought it was you."

"Gunshot?" Illya parrots, staring. "What gunshot?"

"The boy. Viktor shot him." Bucky wipes his eyes again. Even though Uncle has let him be clean ever since they made their deal, Bucky's chin is always scratchy and his hair is a mess. He pushes a hank of it out of his eyes.

Illya shakes his head fast. "No. No. You're wrong. They sent him away. That's what Uncle and Grandfather told us. The boys who aren't good enough to stay get sent to new homes."

Bucky looks startled, then his eyes go wide like something bad happened. But then he grins. "Oh. I guess…I didn’t hear it right, then. I'm sure he's fine." His easy smile looks all wrong under his wet, red-rimmed eyes. Illya's nine. He's not a baby anymore. He knows when someone is lying.

"They shot him?" he says. "They really shot him? Alosha's dead?"

Bucky opens his mouth like he wants to lie again, then just shuts it and nods. "I'm sorry."

"He's dead? They killed him?" Bucky nods again, and Illya's next breath shatters into sobs. He's not allowed to cry but he can't help it. "Why did they do that? They were supposed to send him away!"

Bucky hugs him again and Illya clutches him and cries. "I don't know," he says. "I don't know why they do anything. I'm sorry, Illya." Bucky rubs his back and pets his hair, rocking him side to side in his arms. Illya's too old for crying or needing comfort. He'll be punished for this, maybe Bucky will too. But he clings and sobs and Bucky just lets him.

"Is that what happens?" he asks when he has enough breath for it. "They don't get homes? They get shot?"

"Yeah." Bucky swallows like he's trying not to cry again too. "My window faces the courtyard. I hear everything that happens out there. I'm so sorry."

Illya finally gets enough control of himself that he can pull back and scrub at his eyes. "They never get homes?"

"No."

"Uncle and Grandfather lied?"

Bucky swallows. "Yeah."

Rage explodes in Illya's heart. He screams like a _chort _, like a devil, shoving at Bucky to make him let him go. He wants to hit something; wants to break everything, smash the whole world.__

"No! No, Illya! Don't! They'll hurt us!" Bucky says in English and then in Russian. He tries to hold him still, but he doesn't want to hurt him and right now Illya is so angry he doesn't care. Finally Bucky stands up and carries him. Illya is over 1.6 meters tall now and tough and strong, but Bucky holds him like he weighs nothing, ignores his struggling and slams them both down on Bucky's cot. Bucky lies on him, using his entire weight to keep him still. "Stop! They'll punish us!"

Illya just keeps struggling, screaming and striking at Bucky until he finally gets tired and has to stop on his own. Bucky hugs him again, sitting on the cot and pulling Illya into his lap like a tiny child. He tells Illya _it's okay, it's okay_ over and over again.

There's nothing okay anymore, and it's too late for comfort anyway. The heavy lock on the door thunks and clicks and Boris hauls it open. Uncle and Grandfather are behind him, flanked by Viktor and four of the other men who Illya sees patrolling sometimes, but who never speak to him.

Instantly, Bucky sets Illya gently on his feet and drops to his knees. "It's my fault, sir," he says in Russian. He keeps his head down, speaking so fast his perfect accent slips off some of the words. "I told him lies about what happens to the boys and made him angry. It's my fault, not his!"

"Bring him out, Vanya," Uncle says.

"Yes, sir." Bucky nods, but Illya's close enough to see the tick of a muscle in his jaw. Uncle and the other men call Bucky 'Vanya' now, as if it's his name. Bucky answers to it because if he doesn't Illya gets hurt, but he hates it.

("Why don't you disobey, when you hate everything they do to you so much?" Illya asked him once. Bucky looked confused and said, "I'm never going to let them hurt you again," as if that was enough of a reason.)

Bucky stands, then pulls Illya outside. It doesn't hurt, but Illya can feel Bucky's right arm shaking. As soon as they're standing in front of Uncle and Grandfather, Bucky lets go and kneels again.

"What lies did you tell him?" Uncle asks. His voice is quiet in a way that makes Illya tremble.

"That one of the boys was taken outside and shot."

Uncle grunts. He looks at Grandfather, who makes a face like whatever happens has to be Uncle's idea. Uncle looks back at Illya, pulling on his lower lip as he thinks. "It's true. Alosha was taken outside and shot. Viktor left his body in the forest for the wolves."

" _Why?_ " Illya demands. "Why did you do that? He was good! He was a good boy! He listened! He didn't do anything! Why did you kill him?"

"Illya!" Bucky hisses.

"Shhh." Grandfather steps forward, twisting his gold ring around his finger. Illya's attention is instantly riveted by it. "Focus, Illya. You must focus, and listen. Are you listening?"

Illya nods. He feels much calmer now.

"There. That's better, isn't it?" Grandfather smiles warmly at him.

"Yes. Thank you, Grandfather."

Uncle's smile is thin and cold. "Alosha was a good boy. But he was too much of a distraction for Vadik. Vadik is almost thirteen. He's nearly a man. There are important things he must do for Mother Russia. If he is thinking too much of Alosha he won't be able to do those important things. So, Alosha needed to go."

"Why didn't you send him away?" Illya blinks then wipes quickly at the tears on his cheeks, trying very hard to stop crying. "Why did you shoot him instead?"

"We shoot all the boys," Uncle says. He spreads his hands at Illya's horrified expression. "Your parents gave you all up because they didn't want you. Why did you think anyone else would?"

Illya is too stunned to speak. The worst part, maybe, is that it makes sense. He knew from the first day he came here—

(His father, silent and still on the ground; His mother, bleeding and calling for him—

No.)

—that his parents had handed him to Uncle like an unwanted package. He was lucky that Uncle agreed to take him. Uncle and Grandfather remind him of that every time they speak to him. It's for his own good; he must never forget that this is the only place he has ever or will ever belong.

Of course Uncle would have to kill the children if they were bad. There's no other place for them.

"I asked you a question, Illya," Uncle says.

Illya blinks more tears out of his eyes. He didn't know he was supposed to answer. He thought the boys were sent away because that was what he was told, but that's his fault, not Uncle's. "I'm sorry. Uncle," he says quickly. "I'm stupid. That's why I thought anyone would want to have me as their son. I'm stupid and bad. I should have known better."

"That's right," Uncle says. He nods, but doesn't smile. "Why are you touching Vanya, Illyusha?"

Illya didn't realize he put his hand on Bucky's shoulder, searching for the security in his contact (Bucky is his brother. Bucky keeps him safe. Bucky wants him even if he's bad). He yanks his hand away, grabs his own wrists behind his back. "I'm sorry, Uncle."

Uncle hums. "I wonder if you're becoming too much of a distraction for Vanya."

Bucky's head snaps up, fear flashing through his eyes before they go as cold as winter. "We have a deal." Only Illya can see the tiny tremble in his right hand. "You so much as _touch_ him and all bets are off." He pulls his metal arm from behind his back, lifts his gleaming palm and turns it back and forth so that it glints in the light. "You know what I'm capable of."

"I remember the deal," Uncle says. He jerks his chin at the other men and they all come forward, lifting their weapons. "Your brother misbehaved." He gestures at Bucky. "Put him in the Chair."

Bucky's jaw tightens, but he just stands and says nothing.

"No!" Illya gasps. "No, please! It's my fault! I'm the bad one! _Please_ , Uncle!" He runs in front of Bucky, then stands at rigid attention. "Please, sir, punish me instead. I'm the one who deserves it."

"Illya, don't," Bucky says tightly. "You'll make it worse."

"Whip him after the Chair," Uncle says to the men.

Illya gasps, then smacks his hands over his mouth so he won't speak.

Uncle stares at him, very calm. "This is your fault, boy. Stand aside now or he'll be whipped before and after."

Illya steps aside immediately. He falls to his knees, lowers his head with his hands behind his back the way Bucky does. "Please forgive my transgression, sir," he says. 

It feels like a very long time while Uncle doesn't say anything. Illya hears Bucky being led away. He swallows silently, trying very hard not to cry so Bucky won't be hurt again.

"Better," Uncle says. "Get up."

Illya scrambles to his feet immediately and stands at attention.

"Take him to the Red Room," Uncle says to Viktor and Boris, who are still there. "Let him see the consequences of his actions."

Inside he's screaming, but Illya says nothing at all as the men lead him away.

* * *

On the worst days, it goes like this:

Bucky is on the floor of his room, or strapped to the bed if he's been violent. His face is bruised on both sides, and there's blood in his left ear. His eyes are big and frightened, and he's shaking. On the worst days he's always shaking, like he can't remember how to be still.

If he's on the floor, Illya lies down next to him to keep him warm.

Bucky hugs him immediately, hauling him tight to his trembling body. "S-Stevie?"

"I'm Illya."

"Illya." Bucky repeats it like he needs to learn the word. It's happened often enough that it doesn't make Illya want to cry so badly anymore. "I don't feel so good."

"You're sick. You'll feel better tomorrow."

"You shouldn't be here, Steve. You'll catch whatever I got."

"My name is Illya."

"Illya?"

"Yes." Illya bites his bottom lip hard until his throat stops hurting. "My name is Illya. You're my brother."

Bucky is quiet for a long time. "I don't remember."

"That's okay," Illya whispers. He wipes his eyes. "I'll remind you."

"Don't cry, Stevie," Bucky says.

* * *

Illya turns ten the same year Vadik dies.

Uncle and Grandfather know everyone's ages because they know everything, but no one celebrates birthdays here. Viktor and Boris usually congratulate the boy on turning a year older, at least, and sometimes they even bring sweets from their homes if they've visited recently enough. Alosha got a package of candy when he turned eight. Illya was terribly jealous, but he knew Bucky would want him to be kind, so he tried to smile and he never even asked Alosha to share.

(Grandfather gave Illya a whole _chocolate bar_ on his birthday anyway, because Illya had been so good. But after their talk he felt too nauseous to eat it. He thought about hiding it for when he felt better, but just gave it to Pavel to share with the other boys instead. It was worth it, because Bucky was proud of him.)

On his thirteenth birthday, Vadik gets the Serum.

* * *

All the boys shake Vadik's hand before Uncle and Boris take him away to get his birthday present. Illya says nothing because he wants Bucky to be proud, but he thinks he should be the one to get it instead.

He's three years younger than Vadik, but he's almost as tall and just as strong. And he's not afraid, the way Vadik is: looking over his shoulder at everyone in their room and clenching his fists. But Illya's not old enough, so he has to wait.

He wonders if they'll take Vadik to the same place as Bucky, if Vadik will get to meet him. The idea of that makes Illya hot around his heart. Bucky is _his_ big brother. Illya doesn't want to share.

He knows that's bad, so he's very careful to bury it deep inside with his other bad thoughts, so he won't make a face or say the wrong thing. Especially he mustn't get angry. Bucky wants him to be kind, and Illya won't do anything that will make Uncle hurt Bucky again.

All the boys watch Vadik disappear down the hallway. Ruslan has his hand over his mouth. "Will Vadik be all right?" he asks Illya, because Illya's still the bravest of all of them.

Illya puts his arm around Ruslan's bony shoulders. "Of course. The Serum will make him big and strong, just like Captain America was. Only he'll fight for us instead. When he comes back, you'll see."

That's what Uncle Oleg told them: if they work hard enough and aren't bad so they get sent away ( _shot and left for the wolves_ , but the other boys don't know that), when they turn thirteen they'll be made into big, strong soldiers like Captain America. Ruslan is next, which is why he's worried. Illya is so much better than both of them. Illya can't wait until he's thirteen.

(Sometimes he imagines being big and strong enough to rescue Bucky; break the door of his room and carry him away to somewhere where no one will hurt him. But this is the only place Illya has ever known, and the only people who ever wanted him. Where would he and Bucky go?)

Ruslan smiles and Illya's proud of himself. He knows Bucky will be proud too, and that feels even better.

Except Vadik doesn't come back.

* * *

Decades later, Illya will understand that without Alosha, Vadik stopped wanting to live. He learns it when he wakes up behind a concrete wall and finds out that everyone he cares about is dead.

Losing both Gaby and Napoleon at once is terrible enough. But _Vanya…._

He understands what happened to Vadik, but he goes on anyway. Because he knows Vanya would want him to.

* * *

Ruslan turns thirteen a few months after Vadik. He survives the serum.

Illya sees him sometimes, training with Boris and Viktor and the other men. He likes seeing how much stronger Ruslan is now, hearing him grunt or even laugh instead of crying out in pain when he's hit. He's a good Soldier, but he's not as good as Bucky. Illya's really happy about that, that his brother is still the best out of everyone.

Sometimes, though, Bucky is the one who trains Ruslan. Bucky is always very serious, but he's patient and kind and never hurts Ruslan more than he deserves. But watching them together makes Illya's chest hot. He _hates_ it. He doesn't want Bucky to be patient or kind. He wants him to hurt Ruslan when Ruslan does something stupid or is slow to learn. He doesn't want to see Bucky smile at Ruslan when he does something well, especially because Ruslan makes so many mistakes. Why should Bucky smile at such a bad student? Illya only wants Bucky to smile at _him_.

Pavel catches pneumonia when he's twelve, and dies that same winter. Stanislav is taken away on his thirteenth birthday and never comes back, just like Vadik. Then it's finally Illya's turn.

He kills Ruslan while he's delirious with fever.

After that, Illya regrets every terrible thought he ever had about him. He would give all of Vanya's (Bucky's) smiles for Ruslan to not be dead. He would give anything.

But what Illya wants has never made any difference.

* * *

When he wakes he's strapped down in a chair, shaking and screaming in pain. He doesn't recognize anything in the room. He doesn't know where he is or what happened to him. He can't remember his name.

Two men enter and walk right up to him, inspecting him like he's some kind of animal. The elder of the two smiles. "How are you feeling, Illya?" he asks.

Is he lllya? He wants to ask, but he can't move his mouth the right way. The only sounds he can make aren't words.

The older man stops smiling. He turns to his companion. "I don't like that. What did you tell the technicians to do?"

The other man's expression is indecipherable. "He's thirteen. Clean slate, same as the other one."

"Ruslan never lost the ability to speak."

"Ruslan was easier to control. Can you put back what we need, or not?"

"Of course I can. What history do you want? Do I tell him he was abandoned? Or that his father committed treason?"

"Treason. He responds well to the shame."

"What about Vanya?"

The younger, uglier man smiles, but all Illya (is he Illya?) can see are the teeth. "Oh, yes. Leave Vanya. They keep each other compliant. We can't pull out the damn book every time we need the Winter Soldier to buckle his boots."

"Very well." The old man gives the ugly one a wide, friendly smile. "Come back in two hours. I'll have your Summer Soldier ready for you."

"I would never expect anything less."

The ugly one goes, leaving the old man in the room with him. Illya is still strapped to the chair, still shaking, though not as badly as before. "Wh-who…." He wants to ask _who are you?_ , and _what were you talking about?_ because he couldn't understand any of it. But his mouth still won't work enough to let him speak.

The old man tuts. He slowly pulls over a wooden chair and creaks his way into it. "It's all right, Illya. You can relax." His voice is kind and gentle. Illya feels a little calmer just hearing it. The man smiles. "That's right." There's a thick gold ring on his finger. It catches the light when he lifts his hand. He twists it, round and round and round. Illya's eyes fix on it like it's the only thing in the world. The pain fades; his confusion is irrelevant. All that matters is the man's voice and the light glinting off his ring.

"Focus, Illya. Good. Yes. That's right. Now you must listen, Illya. This is important."

Illya listens.

* * *

He wakes up in a room he recognizes. It's white and clean and very cold. There's one narrow window just under the ceiling, with thick iron bars instead of glass. There are two cots in the room, one on either side. They both have thick leather straps and they're both bolted to the floor. He's lying on the one under the window.

There's someone else in the room: a man maybe ten years older than Illya is. He's pacing back and forth, rubbing his metal arm with his flesh and bone one. He whirls then rushes over as soon as he hears Illya move.

"Illya!" He puts his hands on Illya's shoulders. His expression is like he's excited and afraid at the same time. "It's me. It's Vanya. Do you remember me?"

Illya nods. He reaches for Vanya without thinking, cupping his cheek. "You're my brother."

Vanya closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. His eyes are wet when he opens them, but he beams at Illya then pulls him into his arms. "I'd thought you'd forget me," he says. His arms are tight around Illya's back. "I thought they'd make you forget."

"No. Never. Not you. I could never forget you. You're my brother." Illya hugs Vanya just as tightly. He doesn't know why there are tears leaking from his own eyes. All he knows is that Vanya won't hurt him; Vanya will keep him safe. Illya doesn't remember how he knows that, but he knows it to the depths of his soul. Vanya will protect him.

They hold each other for a long time, until Illya starts yawning.

Vanya smirks. "I think it's nap time, little brother."

"I'm fine," Illya says, then yawns again. "You're just boring." He doesn't know why he said that, but Vanya laughs out loud, so it's good.

"I might be boring, but I know you've had a long day and need to rest." Vanya lays Illya down on the cot. "Your training starts tomorrow."

"Training?" Illya doesn't want to train. Training hurts; he remembers that much. He doesn't know why he's afraid, but he can't make himself let Vanya go. "Don't leave."

Vanya points to the cot on the other side of the room. "I won't leave you. I'll just be over there."

Illya tries to let go. It's like he can hear a voice in his head—it sounds like Uncle Oleg, the ugly man with Grandfather—warning him that disobeying won't be tolerated. If he doesn't let go he'll be sent away. Illya doesn't know why the thought of that is so terrifying, but it doesn't make a difference. His hands won't relax on Vanya's arm. "Don't leave. I'm sorry. But, don't leave."

Vanya glances at his cot, then looks at Illya. "All right. I'll stay." He pulls Illya upright then sets him on his feet, making sure Illya can hold his own weight before he lets go of him. "I'm just going to lie down," he explains when Illya is still reluctant to loosen his grip. Vanya crawls onto the cot and lays on his side, then opens his arms. "Try not to crush me, _Bugai._ "

"I'm not a bull," Illya says. The nickname is familiar, but he doesn't like it.

It's awkward, trying to fit the two of them on the cot. Illya's not nearly as broad as Vanya, but he's a little taller. He probably gives Vanya bruises before he's tucked more-or-less comfortably with his back against Vanya's chest. It won't be easy to sleep like this, but it's warm. It also feels very, very familiar, but he doesn't know why.

"Thank you, Vanya."

"You don't need to thank me. Just sleep. The world will make more sense when you wake, I promise."

It doesn't, really. But Vanya's there, so that's good enough.

* * *

The last time Illya sees Vanya alive is sometime in the spring of 1996, but he doesn't remember that until two days after New Year's in 2016. That's the evening when he sees the special _Time Magazine_ issue about Bucky in the window of a thrift shop, and he finally has the courage to read it.

It nearly destroys him, knowing exactly what he did. It's his fault. His brother is dead because of him.

He can't stand it, so he goes to Claire. He needs to know if it's true. Hydra has filled him with lies for so long he can't trust himself or the world around him anymore. But Claire…Claire didn't lie to him. She told the truth, even when it hurt. She'll tell him if this is true, even if it kills him.

She tells him the truth. It doesn't kill him. He just wishes it could.

* * *

He doesn't believe in God, but he can't help but wonder if there's some kind of providence that brings him to Claire's apartment the same night she rescued Matt.

Matthew Murdock. His last brother is still alive. Illya doesn't know why, whether it's luck or mercy or someone's design. It doesn't matter. He's not alone. _He's not alone._ He still has a brother. He still has a connection, no matter how tenuous. Someone to protect, the way Bucky always protected him. The way he should have protected Bucky, instead of betraying him.

He couldn't protect the other boys. He didn't protect Bucky. But he can protect Matt.

It will never, _ever_ make up for what he did, but he won't let anyone hurt his brothers again.

He starts by keeping watch, so Claire can sleep. He stays by Matya's side for the rest of the night, making sure his brother keeps breathing.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, things get better after _this_ story. Really. I mean it. XD
> 
> Here's my [Tumblr.](http://taste-is-sweet.tumblr.com/) It's much happier, I promise. :D And since you're here, you must like AUs, [so you might like this!](https://whatifau.tumblr.com/About%20Us)


End file.
